


Stronger by far from the risk we take

by FactoryKat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Named Hawke (Dragon Age), POV Anders (Dragon Age), Post-Dragon Age II, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition Quest - Here Lies the Abyss, Search for a Cure, justice is such a mom, kind of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 05:27:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FactoryKat/pseuds/FactoryKat
Summary: Hope. It was a peculiar feeling to have again after everything, after the Circle, after the Wardens, and especially after Kirkwall. Did he dare embrace it and set himself up for disappointment? Anders and Hawke are reunited, together at Weisshaupt fortress following the events at Adamant Fortress and discuss something very important.





	Stronger by far from the risk we take

**Author's Note:**

> The title is lyrics from "Be Alright" by Dashboard Confessional

The haze of slumber still clung to him, clouding his mind, counterbalancing his movements and making his eyelids far too cumbersome to keep open. Anders ground his palms into his eyes, ignoring the quiet urging in the back of his mind to go back to sleep. He was used to operating on less, and it would be poetically hypocritical for him to complain. Only, the absence of heat radiating outward from a solid body close at his side, something he had missed for the past several months, had woken him. Had he been more alert, panic might have set in and propelled his mind on a dark spiral of negative thoughts and paranoia. It would have left him to think himself back in Amaranthine, still with the Grey Warden order, and everything else had been some fever-induced dream formed around the yearnings of an aching heart.

_ You require more rest, Anders. _

Justice.

The low tenor that drifted idly through his thoughts rather than from a physical form was a reminder that it had not been such.

Anders dismissed the spirit’s nagging, though well-meaning it was.

Recognition of his surroundings - Weisshaupt Fortress, the Anderfels of all places - was further confirmation that yesterday and last evening had not been a fabrication. Too many days he had spent slumped over his desk, not wishing to climb into a cold, empty bed, so it was an odd feeling to once again pull himself from a tangled heap of blankets, made disordered by the twisting of bodies in the night. 

_ You are not yet fully recovered. _

As if that was at all anything new to him. 

The previous day had seen him exhaust a significant amount of mana, all in the name of keeping both Hawke brothers alive and helping them and Commander Cousland stave off a group of angry Grey Wardens. Justice had been eerily quiet since they fled Kirkwall, only chiming in when Anders himself was at his weakest, and his hold on reality slipped, or when he was in any serious peril that their combined strength was necessary to thwart. Such moments allowed the spirit a little more dominance over his subconscious mind. Wyatt had proposed his thoughts on it once, that perhaps it was a sign they were more in harmony with one another, but Anders had laughed bitterly and excused it as nothing more than coincidence.

At least the realization he wasn’t dreaming offered him some solace, and the memory of his emotional reunion with Hawke still lingered. Anders recalled the feeling of lips planting kiss after kiss along his neck, of soft murmurs in the dark and robust hands mapping out his body as if for the very first time, like a ghostly record imprinted on his skin. He shuddered as he drew a breath and released it.

A stately window inlaid into the far wall gave the room a feeling of spaciousness, far more than that of their modest cottage back in Ferelden. What it lacked in the familiarity and sentiments of a home they created together, the imposing stone fortress made up for in relative safety. Surely no one but the Wardens knew where they were, and the Anderfels were hardly a fair nation in which to travel just to hunt two apostates…

By now, after minutes ticked by with no sign of Hawke, Anders hauled himself to his feet. A shiver rolled through him as his bare soles made contact with the cold floor of the keep. He only scrambled for his tunic when the door creaked open and a head of flaming red hair poked through. 

“Oh, you’re up. I’m sorry if I woke you.” Wyatt spoke in a hushed, even voice as he slipped inside. 

The gentle smile on his lover’s handsome face coaxed a similar one from Anders, who found himself nearly overcome with relief and untenable happiness. “It’s alright. I was going to come looking for you.”

“I woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep. The Commander found me wandering the halls, so we spoke for a bit.” 

He crossed the room and into waiting arms that enveloped him tightly. His breathing leveled, and the spirit withdrew deeper, content now that Hawke had returned. “Well, I’m not surprised. Whenever the Warden nightmares kept me awake, I would wander Vigil’s Keep. She was always up and willing to talk until I was too tired to stand on my feet anymore…”

“She told me she’s searching for the cure, Anders.”

Perhaps it was his sleep-addled mind or the whispery pitch of his lover’s words, but he made a sound in his confusion. Not at all latching onto Hawke’s meaning. “Cure? For what?” Anders fought the fog of slumber, enticing him again as he pressed his back against Hawke’s chest and let his head fall back to stare up at him.

“She - you both - said it was something named The Calling. That thing that happens to all Wardens eventually. I - remember you talking about it. When we were in Kirkwall still, in that Warden prison where we found Corypheus.”

_ What? _

_ Cure? _

His mind, no longer dulled by creeping fatigue raced to fill in the blanks, as alarm bells sounded within. How? What would even prompt her -

“I - what? A cure for the calling? For the taint? That’s  _ impossible _ ,” he spat, a sour taste on his tongue as he pried himself from Hawke’s arms, still not convinced had heard right.

“Anders-” His lover reached for him, to reassure him, but he maintained an arm’s length distance. 

“Wyatt love,  _ please _ . I  _ can’t _ . If I thought for one second that there was any way-”

“Anders. She found a lead. A good one. She asked us to come with her. To look for it.”

He had no words of his own to follow what was just said. Even Justice was silent, contributing no voice in the matter, and for once in a long time, Anders was alone in his thoughts. Thoughts that were loud and wild, running rampant, spinning possibilities. For a moment, he was tempted to let himself believe, to  _ hope _ .

“She must really be confident then...” Hope. It was a peculiar feeling to have again after everything, after the Circle, after the Wardens, and  _ especially _ after Kirkwall. Did he dare embrace it and set himself up for disappointment?

Anders didn’t protest as Hawke collected him into his arms again, face buried in his hair and hands gingerly stroking his back. Perhaps it was alright, just this once. Just in case it turned out to be true … “I suppose,” he paused to gather his thoughts. “I suppose we could. I’m in no hurry to go rushing back into the Deep Roads but-”

“But if there is even a small chance. Not just for you, Anders, but for Carver as well.”

Carver. His thoughts turned at the recollection, “He wouldn’t even have to worry about this if it hadn’t been for me-”

“Anders,” rough-hewn palms scarred and calloused framed his face, and he met his lover’s dark blue eyes full of steeled resolve. “If it  _ hadn’t  _ been for you, my brother would be dead. Or  _ worse _ . For that, I will always be grateful.” 

Though he hardly felt like he deserved the thanks, his heart still swelled as warmth filled his cheeks and chest. “Alright. Then I guess it’s settled.”

“Good.” There was that grin again, full and beaming, brightening Hawke’s face as it always did. “For now, I think we have some more  _ catching up _ to do.” 

It was difficult not to smile or laugh as Wyatt’s overgrown stubble brushed against his skin while he nuzzled affectionately. “Yes, I suppose we do.”


End file.
